secrets..
by tommy turkish
Summary: rogue and gambit, after she leaves him in antarctica.. post 350.. it's only R, cause i hate the way PG-13 looks.. ;)


Disclaimer: No one reading this is going to suffer the delusion that these characters belong to me.. they don't.. they're Marvel's. Not making any money doing this. Ha .. wish I was. Oh.. Anton's mine. If anyone wants to pay for him, wicked cool. ;)  
  
_______________________________ *  
  
She froze. Her heart stopped its beating, her breathing ceased and her limbs hung leaden from a body that had decided to just... freeze. A fitting state so far as she was surrounded by the icy cold of a continent covered in snow. A continent of death, chill and shattered dreams. He was there. Alive, a shard of metal glowing at his feet. He was trying to keep warm. She shouldn't have left him here. Not all alone, to face his demons in the fatal chill of Antarctica. Tears welled fresh and cold in her eyes. She flew down to him.  
  
She hesitated for a fifth of a second, floating above him, gazing down upon a head so loved. His ruddy brown hair was glazed over with a lacy sheen of frost. Again the tears came. Again she descended.  
  
"Hey."  
  
He looked up, startled for no more than a moment. His composure regained, he stared at her, shivering with as much dignity as he could muster. Rogue felt the cold creep into her own bones. She clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering.  
  
"Chere."  
  
That was it. The big reunion. 'Chere'. It wasn't even caressing. Blunt and short. And cold. She fought another wave of regret.  
  
"Ya angry with me."  
  
He looked away. He couldn't look at her without hating himself. And hating her. For leaving. For expecting of him what he couldn't give.  
  
"Why'd y'come back?"  
  
Because I was so scared I'd lost you...because I needed to see you one more time...because I thought maybe I might figure out how I'm going to live the rest of my life without you...because I love you.  
  
Rogue didn't trust herself to speak. She turned away, absently brushing the windblown burnished hair out of her eyes.  
  
He glared at her then. Rage consumed his ruby eyes.  
  
"Y'gon' take me back? Der? T'ink dey'll even wan' look at dis face?"  
  
His hands blazed with loathing. Rogue stood. She spoke.  
  
"Ah didn't come ta take ya back ta the mansion. Came ta take ya wherever else ya wanna go."  
  
He looked at her and the rage dissipated. There was no anger left. Sadness instead crept into his gaze, deep and painful and...Rogue thought she was going to cry. He looked so alone. Battling grief, she waited. She wanted to tell him he was welcome. That his lies didn't hurt. That his past was of no consequence. But she couldn't. So she waited.  
  
Gambit searched her eyes with his own. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much. First when she'd left him and again, now that she was back. Because she hadn't come to stay. To ask him to go home with her. She'd come back to save a life. To salvage her conscience, perhaps, and nothing more. She'd take him where he'd be safe. Alive. And she'd go home and she'd forget. The tears rose of their own volition. Desperately he fought them. Cleared his throat, tried to speak, to breathe, past the pain lodged there.  
  
"New Orleans."  
  
He wanted to pull back the words. To erase them. To stay and die and freeze like her heart had frozen over. To sink into indifference. Sweet, numb bliss.  
  
"'Kay."  
  
It was no more than a whisper. She drew closer and wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened. Enveloping her in his arms, he resisted fiercely the temptation to seek comfort. She held him only because there was no other way to take him with her. He didn't feel her breathing deeply his scent, though. Or closing her eyes against the memories that threatened to overwhelm. He couldn't know how she wanted to keep him with her forever. And Rogue had no way of realizing his turmoil. His vulnerability. His grief.  
  
"Jus' watch ya face," she reminded him softly. She wasn't wearing her bracelet.  
  
He nodded, quiet. She rested her head in his shoulder, not wanting to accidentally brush his face with hers, and lifted him into the winter air.  
  
They flew for hours, over lands frozen and exotic, seas vicious and calm. Gambit gazed, unseeing, at all they passed. It was torture to be so close and yet so far away. He smirked bitterly at the cliché. He felt himself slipping slowly into sleep. Or unconsciousness. Desperately he fought it. He refused to let himself go. Inevitably, though, he laid his temple against the green shoulder that supported and so enticed him and gave in.  
  
His eyes drifted open, slowly, hesitantly.  
  
"Look 'o's awake."  
  
He turned towards the voice, recognized Anton and seeing his friend, finally grinned.  
  
"It 'as been a while mon ami, non?"  
  
Gambit sobered. The last time he'd been to this particular hotel, he hadn't been alone. She'd remembered.  
  
"'T'as. How are y'old frien'?"  
  
Anton shrugged.  
  
"Can' complain, neh? Next t'de way y'look, I'm fine."  
  
He grinned. Gambit smiled back. It was good to see him again. To be here. Home. Except...it wasn't home. Not really. He opened his mouth to ask, but swallowed the words before he could find the courage to utter them. Anton needed no words.  
  
"She's gone, homme. Came t'find me, and settled y'in, den made her escape."  
  
Gambit nodded. The pain in his chest was incredible. He couldn't breathe. His heart was slowly being crushed, wrenched and ripped apart. He clenched his eyes shut. Tears escaped to fall gently down his cheeks. His hands formed fists fraught with grief, anger and hate.  
  
Anton watched enthralled and saddened. The Cajun had never displayed such emotion. Once, when his father died. But never after that had his friend seen him so utterly desolate. He looked ready to scream.  
  
"Y'loved her, Remy?"  
  
It was the smallest murmur and not really a question. Gambit opened his eyes. Red on black. But there was nothing in their depths but despair. Utter and absolute. Anton bowed his head.  
  
"I love her, Anton."  
  
Sobs racked his body then, dry and harsh and soul-crippling. He buried his face, his grief, in the soft opulence of the pillow. And cried.  
  
Rogue got back to the mansion and flew in through Storm's open ceiling as she'd forgotten her keys and hadn't the strength to wake anyone up. She landed quietly on the wood floor, amidst the exotic flowers of Storm's heady, humid paradise.  
  
"Rogue, is that you?"  
  
From out of the darkness came her voice, regal and musical in its richness. The weather goddess walked out of her room to greet her friend, gauzy nightgown billowing softly in the night air.  
  
"Hey, 'Roro."  
  
Rogue was exhausted. And it seeped into her words. Storm's silver eyes grew cloudy with concern.  
  
"Child, what's wrong? You look...Rogue!"  
  
At the tears falling down the younger woman's cheeks, Storm was alarmed. She grasped Rogue's shuddering shoulders in her hands. Searching her eyes, Storm led her to the bay windows and the couch between them. Rogue stifled her sobs to murmur an explanation.  
  
"It's done, 'Roro. He's...he's...gone."  
  
She wept, burying her face in Storm's lap. Absently the older woman stroked her fiery hair, speaking words of comfort. But Rogue's only salvation lay in the arms of a man half way across the world and not getting any closer. So she wept.  
  
The next morning the sun shone in open defiance to Rogue's mood. Waking up on Storm's couch awash in bright sunlight was offensive after last night's emotional devastation. She pushed herself up and moved over to the window. Clouds were sailing past and most of the team was playing baseball out in the yard. Jubes was on second and yelling at Scott to hurry his ass up and pitch. Rogue grinned.  
  
She remembered Gambit standing at first base, then. And her there with him, ready to run to second at the crack of the bat. She remembered his hands, around her waist, pulling her close. She had giggled like a child. And then squealed. And finally fallen into his arms. It had been a couple of days after he'd given her the bracelet*. Her bracelet. Theirs. She'd touched for the first time without pain, or confusion, or.anything short of pleasure. She'd touched him. And he felt so good.  
  
She was crying again. Fuck. She missed him so much it hurt.  
  
Storm walked into the room and saw Rogue up and standing against the window. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly as she struggled not to crumple to the floor. Storm approached her.  
  
"Rogue..."  
  
"Ah'm okay, 'Roro. Ah'm jus' gettin' it outta mah system, know?"  
  
Storm nodded silently.  
  
"Would you like to talk about it?"  
  
Rogue contemplated. She shook her head slowly.  
  
"Don' think Ah'm quite ready, darlin'...but the minute Ah can talk about him without burstin' into tears, ya'll be the first ta know."  
  
Storm hugged her.  
  
"I'm here, child."  
  
"Thanks doll."  
  
Rogue moved towards the shower. Storm opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, silent. It was too soon, she thought. And things were sure to work out. Eventually. She hoped.  
  
Gambit woke to the scent of toast. The French kind. He smiled slowly as he emerged from slumber. It brought back memories. In his mind's eye, there was Rogue. Her eyes playful and her hair tousled from sleep. She had fed him that morning, safe and warm in his arms. Had kissed the syrup off his lips, wearing his bracelet.  
  
He remembered the bracelet too. The days and nights he spent making it work, first and then transforming it into a relic of beauty, so she could enjoy it twofold. It had taken him hours, days and months to finish, but the look in her eyes when he had first placed a loving hand against her startled face had been joy personified. He knew then he would have worked for the rest of his life to see her happy.  
  
He forced himself out of bed and into the clothes laid out for him. Life went on, he tried to convince himself. He could survive without her. Moving to the window, Gambit reached out to part the heavy drapes, and stilled painfully at the sunlight that came streaming in. He should be dead. Shouldn't be graced with the exhilaration of the sun, nor the warmth it bestowed. Wouldn't be, if she hadn't come back. But she had.  
  
Despite everything. Despite what he'd done, she hadn't let him die. He rested his forehead on the shimmering panes of glass. Memories of that long ago night washed over him like waves of tar. The death and horror, the despair, the cries. *Merde* The cries of agony and betrayal and terror. And the little girl he had clutched so tightly, trying desperately to hold onto his single, small attempt at redemption. Gambit felt the bile rise to his throat and stumbled into the bathroom. His stomach was empty, though, and dry heaving shudders racked his body. It felt as though his lungs were being purged, his stomach, his heart.  
  
The painful convulsions subsided and he collapsed onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, closing his eyes tightly against the agony. There were no more tears to cry. His eyes stung but were dry. His breathing harsh and gasping. Of course she didn't want him back. Who possibly would? He was responsible for the death of a race. An entire people. A helpless people. There was so much pain. Guilt and regret and loathing. And nothing he could do about it, any of it. No one to tell him it was going to be okay. To relieve him of the devastating images that haunted him in even his waking hours.  
  
She had told him her love was unconditional. Forever. That it would last until she died and beyond. An anger consumed him then. She should have understood. She of all people should have given him the chance to explain, to apologize, to offer repentance. Instead she had turned away. His face crumpled. She couldn't have known. Or even suspected. Her promises were made to the man she thought he was, to the man she had convinced him he was. And he had proven her wrong. Despairingly, inescapably, tragically wrong. The tears he thought were gone...were not.  
  
Rogue sat alone on the night-cloaked roof, knees clasped together in the circle of her arms. Her eyes gazed into nothingness, and her mind wandered aimlessly. She jumped, startled at the dark form that suddenly hunched down beside her. Wolverine settled comfortably on his haunches.  
  
"'Sup, Roguie?"  
  
She sighed, and shrugged.  
  
"Nuthin' Sugah. Ah'm fine."  
  
Wolverine looked at her long and quiet.  
  
"Not thinkin' 'bout the Cajun at all?" he asked, finally.  
  
"Tha's low, Logan," she replied quietly.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Not if yer lyin' ta me, girlie. Shuttin' me out just ain't gonna happen."  
  
"Ah'm not."  
  
"You are," he cut her off. "Thought we were friends, Roguie."  
  
"'Course we are, Logan," she protested.  
  
"So spill."  
  
She sighed and closed her eyes.  
  
"Ya went back ta get 'im..."  
  
Rogue looked up at that. It wasn't even a question really. He knew. She nodded.  
  
"Ah couldn't leave him there ta die. Maybe he deserved ta. Maybe that's what ya're thinkin'. But Ah just couldn't."  
  
Wolverine nodded.  
  
"But yer not with 'im..."  
  
She hugged herself tighter.  
  
"Ah...don't know if Ah can look at him without... Ah mean, Logan it's there. That awful, awful thing he did. And worse than that, the fact that he hid it.. that he didn't trust me enough to...And Ah just can't...forget. Suppose Ah'm not ready to forgive, either."  
  
Again he inclined his head.  
  
"We've all done things we regret, Roguie. Me, Joseph, Marrow, you even..."  
  
Tears glistened in her eyes at his logic. She had told herself the same thing over and over again.  
  
"Ah know, Logan...but it doesn't make anythin' any different. Ah jus'..."  
  
Wolverine waited.  
  
"Ya what, darlin'?" he coaxed softly.  
  
"Ah don't know..."  
  
She began to cry. Wolverine drew her close, into his enormous arms.  
  
"Ah wanna jus'...be with him. Ah want him to wrap me up in his arms and hold me and tell me that it never happened...but it did, Logan, and God, it hurts so much."  
  
"I know, Roguie, I know..."  
  
She drew a shaky breath. Her lips quivered.  
  
"He deserves a second chance, dun' he? Ah mean, he wasn't the same then. Professor Xavier wouldn't've let him stay if...and how could Ah fall in love with...?"  
  
She stopped and stared into the heavens. Her tears trickled down a miserable face.  
  
"Ah jus'...expected more of him, Logan. Ya know? Ah loved him. And...he didn't even...tell me. He should've told me. Ah didn't need to hear it from a demented judge who forced me to listen. Ah don't need these pictures and feelings and thoughts runnin' around in mah head!!!"  
  
"Yer still rememberin'?"  
  
She nodded, tearful.  
  
"Ah hate it. Because, Lord, Logan, he's so scared. And.it's awful. His pain.he hurts so much. An' he hates himself so much. An' Ah have these feelings, so Ah can't just push them away...It was hard enough to go back an' get 'im. Because the whole time, he was tellin' me to jus' leave 'im there..."  
  
"It was better'n I woulda done," he admitted, quietly, "going back to get 'im? Dunno if I coulda done the same...I'd like to think so."  
  
Rogue leaned into him, letting her eyes close as she kissed his scruffy cheek gently.  
  
"Thanks, Logan. Ya're a good friend."  
  
"I know it."  
  
He stood up then, and pulled her up with him. Lifting her off her feet, he carried her off the roof, and into the mansion's upstairs hall.  
  
"Rogue, fer once, just ease up on the strong woman bit. Ya deserve this. An' I want to."  
  
Giving in, she fell asleep against his chest on the way to her room. Breathing softly, she looked peaceful. Wolverine smiled as he pulled the covers up over her shoulders.  
  
"Cajun'll be back," he murmured to no one in particular. "If he's got any sense left, he'll come back."  
  
Anton had found him on the floor in the bathroom, and helped him into a shower after which he gave him breakfast.  
  
"So, y'wan' talk about it?"  
  
Gambit looked up with weariness in his eyes, and a warning too.  
  
"Non, no' really."  
  
"Y'love her. But y'hate her as well. Why, Remy, such conflicting emotions?"  
  
"Anton..."  
  
He was interrupted.  
  
"After all these years, y'gon attempt t'put me in my place? Don' flatter y'self Cajun."  
  
Gambit exhaled loudly.  
  
"I love her, b'cause in dat I 'ave no choice. I hate her, b'cause she refuses to return dat love."  
  
"Refuses? What brought her all the way to New Orleans with y'in her arms, then? Eh, Remy? Refuses? Or perhaps she is unable...? Perhaps y'make it impossible."  
  
"I made a mistake, friend. Long ago, I made a mistake dat cost many people dey lives."  
  
Slowly, and in halting tones, he fought the grief to tell his friend of that night. Of his mistake. And of the trial that revealed to all and asunder the sickening blot in his history.  
  
"Everyday I live with the guilt of what I done. Live wit' it alone. Den, she found out. An' she cannot forgive me."  
  
Anton contemplated.  
  
"'Ave y'asked her to?"  
  
Gambit looked up, startled.  
  
"Non. Why would I...?"  
  
"Y'a dumb fuck."  
  
And Anton left the room. Gambit threw his sheets off and followed his friend down the hall.  
  
"What de hell dat s'posed t'mean, eh?"  
  
Anton turned at the sound of his voice.  
  
"What it s'posed t'mean? Remy, after what y'done, d'y'really believe y'ave any right to pride? PRIDE??!! 'Cause dat de only t'ing y'be suffering from. An' it makes me sick."  
  
Gambit stared, wide eyed and dumbstruck as Anton continued down the hall. Finally he lifted a weary hand to his eyes, and walked back into his room. He had to pack.  
  
The team yelled and whooped, cheering on the runners. It was the second game of the season. Sentinels were up against the Falcons (they always were; those were the only two teams), and the latter was winning. Wolverine, running for the Sentinels was nearing home plate, but close on his heels was Iceman. No powers was the sole rule of the game, in addition to those of normal baseball, and Bobby was dying to turn on the ice, and glide over to the base ahead of the shorter, but naturally faster, man. Wolverine slid hard into the sand and made the run. Bobby swore loudly. Rogue burst into laughter, waiting for her turn to bat on the bench. Wolvy got up and dusted himself off, the grin on his face just bordering on feral glee.  
  
"Mebbe next time, Iceman," he taunted.  
  
Bobby swore again. Rogue laughed.  
  
Outside she laughed. Inside, she fought to keep the smile on her face. She laughed and played and smiled, but she did it because she was tired of the sorrow she saw reflected in the faces around her. She didn't want their pity, or their concern. She didn't need to be reminded every moment of what she'd lost. So she smiled. And it hurt like hell.  
  
"Yer turn, Roguie."  
  
She looked up at Wolverine and smiled. Of course she smiled.  
  
"Aw hell!!"  
  
She laughed at Sam's dejected yell. And stepped up to bat. She eyed the ball, and Phoenix holding the ball. Everyone moved back several yards. Rogue grinned. She kicked at the sand covering home plate, and eased into position. Swung the bat a couple of times for good measure, and waited for the pitch. The first one she missed. Swearing softly at Hank's loud "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeerike!!" she unbent herself. Then got ready for the next pitch.  
  
The ball came sailing up to her, taunting the bat she held firmly in her hands. She swung, and closed her eyes briefly at the sound of wood hitting it home. She opened them in time to watch the ball sail over their heads and far beyond the home run zone. Rogue smiled.  
  
"Yay me."  
  
She tossed the bat to the dirt at her feet and swung her hair over a shoulder to make the requisite run around the field. Jubilee was hollering and Sam was swearing, yelling at her to shut up. Storm glided into home on a soft, summoned wind. Wolverine was giving high fives all around as Phoenix cursed whatever instinct had made her throw a curve. Rogue smiled again at all the unbridled noise and dropped down to earth to step quickly across first. Hovering, she glanced up at the sky then back at the mansion and the green expanse adjoining it. Memories flowed, vivid and abundant and heart-rending in their laughter. Sadness broke over her in waves. She felt tears sting her eyes and the constant, hollow ache in her heart intensify. The field and everyone on it blurred as Rogue flew over the remaining bases and made her run. She shrugged off Logan's hand on her shoulder and attempted a watery smile when Storm looked at her with worried eyes.  
  
"Ah'm okay...it's just..."  
  
Storm steadied Logan with a reassuring hand and they watched her fly off, emotions beating around in her head so she couldn't even think. The baseball game was left behind, the shouting now subdued as Rogue slid between the curtains of her open bedroom window and collapsed on her bed. She held her tears at bay for one-tenth of a second, before she broke down completely. The sobs she thought had been purged returned with a vengeance as they racked her thin body.  
  
Gambit watched her weep as though her heart would break. He realized, then, that it already had. His chest was a chasm of jagged edges and incomparable pain. God, there was no end to the guilt, the grief. He stared at her tremendous anguish and felt his throat close up until he couldn't breathe. His feet, of their own will moved towards her bed until he was so close her scent hit him with a force unrivaled by anything tangible. He touched a hand tenderly to her hair and he prayed. For forgiveness and returned affection, for relief from his misery. It was a lot to ask, he knew it was a lot to ask, but shit, that was what prayers were for. And please, God, he'd be so incredibly grateful if for just once things turned out good.  
  
*Please...*  
  
Rogue's eyes flew open and she fought to stem the tide of her tears. Her hair tumbled riotously about her shoulders and her eyes were red from crying. Eyelashes spiky with salt tears, she hiccuped as she looked up. And then her breath caught in her throat.  
  
She was trapped between worlds of emotion, of reality. She was dreaming, and deliriously happy that he was back. Or she wasn't, and didn't know how to feel. In both worlds he was handsome, and sexy, potently male and yet so devastatingly vulnerable. His red eyes glowed softly in the gloom, emanating heat and anxiety and a crippling hope. She felt herself crumble despite every tiny persistent doubt. All the events of the past months swelled in her mind in final, desperate attempts at recognition and then vanished without so much as a lingering question. Rogue threw herself into Gambit's arms, wrapping him in an embrace so filled with love and longing and protection that he cried. He buried his head in her satin hair and wept like a child.  
  
"I'm sorry," he choked out against her shoulder. "I never...God, I wish.."  
  
She held him closer and ran her fingers through his chocolate hair, murmuring soft words of comfort.  
  
"It's okay... it'll be alright...."  
  
She tried to keep back the tears, realizing the devastating pain he was in and feeling a guilt that was like being buried under concrete. Her heart was battered by his anguish, his quiet, wrenching sobs. She didn't know at all what to do, how to ease his suffering after she had contributed so much to it.  
  
"Gambit, I'm sorry," she whispered, humiliated with herself.  
  
He stiffened against her, drew away slowly, searching her eyes for meaning behind the words he had heard escape her mouth. She watched his eyes harden slightly, gazed in growing horror as he began to hide the pain behind walls of granite. Her hand slid from her control and travelled to his face, followed the outline of his jaw. Gambit softened inevitably at her touch soft and reminiscent of so much love. He tried hollowly to brace himself for her quiet rejection, her sorrowful abandonment, but he couldn't. God, his heard was ripped into so many shreds he just didn't have the will to stitch them back together, nor even to fabricate a façade for the salvation of his precious pride. It didn't matter if she wouldn't love him. Nothing was worth anything after her. Rogue saw now the emptiness of his face, a hope too deadened to bring anything but pain. His was a face defeated. She stroked softly the curve of his lips.  
  
"Where have you gone?" she whispered. "Why are you keeping me away?"  
  
He closed his eyes against the sadness in her voice. His throat closed up so tightly he could barely move his mouth to make words. When he finally spoke it was with raw anguish.  
  
"Y'don' wan' t'be where I am," he told her desolately. "This...pain...Merde, the guilt...y'don' wan' me. Not now, not like this."  
  
And he told her this as though he were forcing himself to understand, to accept. She stared.  
  
"Why didn't ya tell me?"  
  
He opened his eyes to look at her. She sounded so sad.  
  
"Ah can forgive what ya did, Gambit. Ah know the pain it's caused ya. Ah've felt only a little of what ya have ta deal with every fucking day, an' Ah thought Ah'd die. But ya shoulda told me. Ah just...why didn't ya trust me enough to...?"  
  
Gambit stared at her dumbly. He felt the first stirrings of luminous wings against his heart, fought them down. He wouldn't be broken again. He watched her face collapse in an avalanche of anguish, saw the tears stream down her face, as she hid her face in her hands.  
  
"An' Ah cain't believe Ah left ya there...oh ma god, Gambit, what if Ah'd come too late... you could be... and then ah'd... Ah don't think Ah could live without ya...."  
  
She sobbed and her tears fed the ache in her heart. Gambit sat down beside her, on a bed he'd never thought to feel again, with a woman he'd thought couldn't love him. His heart faltered, swelled.  
  
"Rogue..."  
  
She looked up at him, questions dancing around in her green eyes, colouring them confused and desperate. He caught a strand of hair between roughened fingers, and let the softness seep into his weary soul.  
  
"I missed you."  
  
She smiled, watery, and loved him more than she ever had for his forgiveness.  
  
"I missed ya too."  
  
His arms then went around her, and pulled her close, his head rested on hers and he stroked her hair with his mouth.  
  
"I should've tol' you. But I was scared, an' when y'love someone so much, y'don' wan' fuck anyt'in' up. We had it so perfect, Chere."  
  
Her arms closed around him, hugging the soft Cajun voice into her heart.  
  
"I forgot dat de past 'as an 'abit of catchin' up...God, Chere, if I could do it all over again...right from de beginning..."  
  
He tightened his hold on her, as though he'd never let go, gently kissed away her tears even as his own fell.  
  
"If only I'd had you den...all de hate, de anger, de confusion. Y'make it disappear. I c'n live wit' anyt'in', even myself, Chere, if I 'ave you."  
  
Her fingers brushed at his cheeks and crept through his hair, and she brought his lips down to meet her own in solemn promise.  
  
"I love you," she whispered against his rough mouth. "And I forgive you, and I'll never leave you again."  
  
Gambit let his spirit explode at her vow. Rogue flowed into him, healing every wound, every gash and cut and scrape, covering everything in gentle, glowing radiance. She arched into his embrace, loving the remembered caress of his palms against her skin. He pushed her softly back onto the bed, and as he kissed her senseless, he whispered.  
  
"Y'd best not."  
  
And she was whole.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*more about this somewhere else.. oh, it restrains her power.. like a revamped genoshan collar.. not a novel concept.. although I swear I'd thought about it before I'd read about it.. but it's no use trying to convince you, I can see.. ;) true though.. swear. 


End file.
